


The Dúnedain's Daughter: Rosie's Adventure

by Aerlinniel722



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-26 19:31:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3862039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerlinniel722/pseuds/Aerlinniel722
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The famous Red Book chronicles the Battles of the South, and so the stories of the North are often forgotten. Here follows the story of one hobbit lass named Rosie Cotton; her encounter with the Dúnedain Rangers, and the secret that she kept.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Dúnedain's Daughter: Rosie's Adventure

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters, names, plot, etc. belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. The chapter titles are also drawn directly from The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.
> 
> Note: Also posted on fanfiction.net
> 
> This is my first fan fiction, please read and review! All constructive criticism is welcome! Please no negative comments, they will be deleted and ignored.

 

  


**I.** Not at Home

_The Shire, December 1419_

  


“Hobbits have lived in the Shire for over a thousand years, are we to let these _Ruffians_ turn us out of our homes and ruin our gardens?” Farmer Cotton thundered. “We have always taken pride in keeping to ourselves, are we now to fail? To be overrun? What will happen to our womenfolk? To our children?” Rosie gripped her pale blue skirt in her hands as she listened to her father’s booming voice, and the mutterings of the gathered hobbits. Rosie wanted to be in there, but her father had forbidden her attendance, insisting that it was not suitable for “a lass like her”. However, he did not succeed in stopping her from listening in. The Shire was coming under attack, Rosie knew it as well as any other hobbit lad, but because she was of the ‘gentle’ sex she was told that becoming involved was “too dangerous” for her. Rosie detested the idea of cowering inside her hole while she waited for her father and brothers to fight off the invaders. What if they were hurt? Or worse, what if they were killed?

“This is not wrestling with your brothers, Rosie, these are real enemies who would see you dead. It’s too dangerous for you, lass.” Farmer Cotton had protested when Rosie asked to fight. “Too dangerous”, the phrase struck a chord in Rosie, and as she tossed and turned in her bed that night, she decided that she hated it.

 

Less than a week later the hobbits were called to arms. The number of sheriffs swelled, and Rosie’s own father and brothers left their cozy hole to join the border patrols. They snuck out when Rosie was away, leaving her distraught mother to explain what had transpired. _Smart,_ Rosie realized as she stared at the empty road, because if she had known of their departure then she would not have let them leave without her.

Dinner was a subdued affair, and shortly after Rosie went to bed; a plan already formed. Her mother may have accepted that they were to remain at home until the danger had passed, but Rosie hated waiting. She was going after her father, and she would not stop until she was, at least, allowed to train with the rest of the fighting hobbits. _Surely_ , she reasoned as she braided her curly locks, _he would let her learn how to defend herself_. Therefore, with iron resolve Rosie snuck out of her hobbit hole, leaving a short note to her mother, and took off in the direction that she thought her father and brothers had gone.

  


**II.** Out of the Frying-Pan Into the Fire

  


At first Rosie was pleased with her speed, her resolve supplying her limbs with energy. The hours wore on, and the miles passed beneath her feet so she no longer felt the cold; at least not until she heard the noise. From ahead she heard the soft rumble of men’s voices, and immediately Rosie increased her pace, foolishly expecting hobbits. The figures were far taller than any hobbit she had ever seen, and almost immediately Rosie knew that she had made a terrible mistake. Before she could retreat back to the shadows one of them noticed her, called to his friends, and then Rosie knew that she was trapped. Inwardly she cursed, calling herself a foolish Took as she found herself the object of the men’s attention and jeering. It was the most horrible thing that she had ever experienced as they taunted her and poked at her, and although Rosie trembled from cold and fear, she did not show any other sign of weakness. Rosie dared not give these dreadful men any information that might be used to hurt the rest of her family, stubbornly keeping her mouth closed, even though her silence frustrated her tormentors. Their verbal threats became increasingly graphic, and Rosie’s resolve was beginning to crack when the first arrow struck the man closest to her. At once the peaceful night erupted into chaos, and it was all Rosie could do to curl into a ball on the ground, hoping desperately not to get stepped on.

Rosie's previous streak of bad luck seemed broken, as she found herself in the center of a group of seven people, her previous attackers lying around her; dead. Almost immediately she noticed that four of them were female. The pre-dawn light revealed three of her rescuers' exotic features. Their skin appeared to be naturally darker, their nearly-black hair was silky and straight, and their rich brown eyes were an almond shape.

“Are you hurt? I am a healer, if you have any injuries please tell me so that I may see to them.” Rosie turned her gaze to the young ranger who had knelt before her. The woman’s voice was gentle, and her blue-grey eyes were compassionate as she looked over Rosie’s somewhat battered form.

“I will be alright.” Rosie finally managed to reply, feeling self-conscious as the company of Rangers all looked at her. She had heard what the other hobbits said about them; their offer of aid, and the subsequent debate about whether or not to accept. Rosie had not felt strongly either way, but now she owed them her life, and she was beginning to realize that their presence could be of benefit with respect to the Shire's' survival.

“Oi! What’s happened?” The familiar voice of her father drew Rosie’s thoughts away from the mysterious band of Rangers who had saved her from certain torture, perhaps even death.

“Rosie?” Her father demanded, his stride faltering as he spotted her. “What are you doing out here?” He strode over to her, wrapping his arms around her in a protective manner as he surveyed the carnage.

“You shouldn’t be out here on your own.” He told her sternly, before turning to the Rangers. “Thank you for protecting my daughter. We’ll take it from here.” Rosie winced at her father’s cool dismissal of the women and men who had saved her life. She waited for a sharp rebuttal, but instead they laughed.

“I think for now, master Hobbit, we shall remain with you, your men, and your daughter, for the night is not safe, nor is this area.” A woman with dark skin replied. Her voice was rich, colored with an unfamiliar accent. Rosie could sense that her pronouncement, although worded harmlessly enough, was not one to be argued with. Farmer Cotton and the other hobbit men realized this, and so the company of Rangers and Rosie joined Farmer Cotton’s band.

  


**III.** The Scouring of the Shire

_Winter 1419_

  


Sweat beaded on Rosie’s brow as she went through the now-familiar motions. Training was hard work, but she had begged and pleaded until her father finally gave in, and allowed her to train. She was not allowed to become a sheriff, or to do any sheriff business, she was there only to learn how to defend herself, and while it was not exactly what she wanted, Rosie would take what she could get.

Her arms felt on the verge of collapse as she raised her practice sword again, but she would rather be caught with an empty pantry and shaved feet rather than let the lads around her know. All of them were surprised by her vigor, many having thought that she would not last more than a day, and yet, three weeks later Rosie Cotton was still in training.

“Alright, that’s enough for the day.” Rosie was relieved when the sheriff in charge called a halt to the grueling exercises.

Mopping at her brow, Rosie left the field in search of Gilwyn, the kind-hearted healer ranger who had first spoken to her on that dreadful night. Since then, Rosie had split her dedication between learning to fight and studying the art of healing under Gilwyn. Rosie had a passion for plants, and while she knew a bit about the care of wounds, never before had she received as fine an education as Gilwyn gave her.

Gilwyn herself had trained in the art of healing since she was a small girl, and her dedication was clear. While she was knowledgeable and skilled, what appealed to Rosie about Gilwyn were her patience and her easy smile. No matter how many mistakes Rosie made, when it came to identifying plants or practicing her stitches on odd bits of leather, Gilwyn never grew frustrated with her. Indeed Rosie was beginning to wonder if Gilwyn ever lost her temper or her patience.

Rosie sat that afternoon making simple healing pouches with a few of the more important herbs, a needle and thread, and bandages. They might not cure a mortal wound, but it was required that the rangers carry them, and so Rosie had gone to her father, and convinced him that the hobbit sheriffs should also carry such pouches. Her father was delighted with the idea, and Rosie was beginning to find her place, not as a warrior, but rather as a healer.

Across the room Gilwyn began to hum quietly to herself, and Rosie looked up, studying the young woman. Gilwyn was beautiful, there was no doubt about that. She had long dirty blonde hair, usually bound in a braid, blue-grey eyes and rose coloured lips. Her frame was thin and tall, and she carried herself with a certain regality Rosie thought. Indeed, if she was gowned and bejeweled Rosie thought that the young ranger could easily be royalty, but then again Rosie was wont to fantastic imaginings.

  


**IV**. Many Partings

_Spring-Summer, 1419_

  


Gilwyn and her squad of rangers remained in the Shire for the rest of the winter. Rosie enjoyed their presence, and inwardly she laughed at herself because she acted much like Sam did around Bilbo. She loved the Rangers’ stories, especially those from the dark skinned Rangers, who she learned had come from the south, having escaped from the Dark Lord’s slavery. Her favorite stories though, were about their Queen. Estelraen was her name, and she had ruled for several years, taking over after her mother died in battle. All the people loved her, Gilwyn said, and Rosie could see that the young ranger held her in especially high regard.

When the time came to leave, Rosie found herself longing to go with Gilwyn and her companions. Yet she knew her place, and it was in the Shire, helping to pass along Gilwyn’s teachings to the other hobbits, and defending her home.

Thence, when Gilwyn told Rosie that it was time for her patrol to return north Rosie felt an unexpectedly pang of sorrow. She nodded to Gilwyn stood at her father’s side and waved as they disappeared, melting back into the forest.

The sheriffs continued to patrol, and Rosie saw plenty of injuries at first, but gradually the numbers waned, and eventually her father sent her home. She missed the bustle of the Sheriffs’ base as she puttered around her hole with her mother, and she could not help but wonder if that chapter of her life was over. Rosie thought then that she would never be happy settling down with a simple hobbit lad and raising bairn after bairn as she had once dreamed of doing. No, she realized, she wanted more, she wanted to help people like Gilwyn did, and she wanted to go North and see the city that the Rangers had spoken of. She wanted to walk in the white stone streets, and meet people who had come from distant lands. She longed to see the Queen who had drawn them all there, and inspired such loyalty.

These dreams, however, Rosie kept to herself because she knew that it was not appropriate for a hobbit lass such as herself to leave the Shire, and roam the wild. If she said anything her mother would frown and her father would lecture. She would rather avoid both of those things so she kept her longings to herself. She also kept secret her dreams of a certain dirty blonde haired Ranger.

Rosie missed Gilwyn more than she had expected to, for she had lost a valuable friend and mentor. What Rosie had not expected were the dreams of Gilwyn returning, of Gilwyn sitting at her side and teaching her the art of healing, of cooking for Gilwyn, and later in the night of Gilwyn holding her.

Rosie was ashamed of these last dreams, but found her mind consumed with thoughts of Gilwyn, and sometimes as more than a friend. She had always known that she appreciated girls as much as she did boys, but Gilwyn was coming to be the only person that Rosie thought of. If her family and friends noticed her distraction they said nothing, and for that Rosie was glad because she felt she could never tell anyone her secrets.

  


**V.** The Return Journey

_October 1419-Spring 1422_

  


At the beginning of October Sam Gamgee returned, riding into Hobbiton with Mr. Frodo Baggins, Mr. Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Mr. Peregrin Took on fine ponies and in fancy outlandish garb. Rosie had to admit that Sam did make a nice impression, and perhaps if not for Gilwyn then she would be more interested, but even when he came to call on her the Ranger was not far from her thoughts.

Still, Rosie knew that she had no claim to Gilwyn, nor did Gilwyn have any claim on her, so she accepted Sam’s courtship. It was expected of them, having been sweethearts throughout much of the teens and all of their tweens, and when they announced their marriage it was cheered with great enthusiasm. Sam had played with her brothers when they were lads, and so adopting Sam as a brother was not hard for them.

The wedding took place on the first of May in the new year, and a fine wedding it was. Hobbits came from all corners of the Shire to attend, some of them as friends, others to gawk at the four hobbits who had returned from their adventure, and many more Rosie recognized as having defended the Shire. After her return she had faded back into the mass of hobbit women, and although they did not forget her, the hobbit men that she had trained with and healed also returned to their lives. This show of support was a small offering, but one that Rosie was grateful for nevertheless. As a girl Rosie had many dreams about her wedding, and all of them were fulfilled on that May day; a loving groom, a gorgeous gown, a warm sunny day, and no end to good food. After the ceremony and the feast Sam took her with him to live at Bag End. It was there that Rosie began to realize just how alike she and Sam were for although she held part of his heart, there was also a part of Sam that loved Frodo. The more she watched them together, the more obvious it became to her that their devotion to each other was similar to her love of Gilwyn. Sam loved Frodo, and yet neither of them had the courage to defy societal expectations. Inwardly Rosie mourned for the both of them, but outwardly neither she nor Sam did anything save play the happily wedded couple. Perhaps it was not all play, Rosie reasoned, for they did love each other, just perhaps not as much as they were supposed to.

Their peaceful existence continued for a year, and during that time Rosie and Sam welcomed their daughter to the world. Elanor was born strong and healthy in 1421, and Rosie and Sam doted on her; watching as she grew into an adventurous lass. Elanor took up much of Rosie’s time, and although they had never really lacked for conversation before, the baby ensured that her parents always had a topic to converse about.

In April of 1422 the four hobbits received invitations to meet the King. He was there to formally acknowledge his kingship in the North. Rosie wondered about the Queen of the North, and how the Rangers and other assembled subjects felt about his ascent to the throne, but she did not say anything. All of the hobbits loved the King, whom they fondly called ‘Strider’.

When Sam first asked Rosie about joining him on his journey to see the King her answer had come at once; of course she would go. Inside her guts squirmed with the uncomfortable acknowledgement that she was going in the hopes of seeing Gilwyn again. Arrangements were made, and by May she, Sam, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Elanor were waiting at the Prancing Pony for the King’s company.

  


**VI.** Many Meetings

_Spring 1422_

  


When Rosie met the rest of the company she had to admit that she was a little nervous. They were all renowned, perhaps more than even she had even imagined, and yet they were her husband’s dearest friends. The Companions, even the King, spoiled Elanor, and treated Rosie as though she was a lady of great importance, and Rosie found herself liking the eclectic group. They exchanged stories that Rosie listened to, but she never told her own. She had stories because she had seen much of what the Shire had fought against, but she had never even told Sam how involved she had become. No one really talked about those darker days when many a good hobbit had lost their life. Of course Sam knew that she had not stayed back at home, but when she declined to say much on the subject he did not push her. In return, while asking about his adventures if he ever skirted a topic then she let it be.

The closer that they got to the city, the more anxious Rosie became. Was Gilwyn even there? What would she tell Sam when it became clear that she had a history with the Ranger and her patrol? Worst of all, as she had sensed the way that Sam loved Frodo, would he be able to detect her love for Gilwyn? All of these thoughts kept her awake at night, not that she admitted to the exhaustion. She had, after all, become accustomed to it while working with the Sheriffs, and more recently when Elanor was a baby.

The days passed, and Rosie could not determine whether they were too fast or too slow, but suddenly they were making camp for the last night. They were within sight of the city, the glorious white stone shimmering in the dusky light, and Rosie stared in awe, remembering the many stories about Annúminas and her people.

“It’s like Minas Tirith.” Sam told her. “Just not quite as high, more sprawling.” Rosie nodded, only half listening as Merry, Pippin, Gimli, and Legolas wandered closer, and began to talk about the rumors that they had heard about the Queen of the North, and her vast domain.

“My father has said that there are dwarves here because this Queen has called on dwarves from Erebor, Dale, and, Ered Luin, and the Blue Mountains.” Gimli, the red-haired dwarven companion, said as he stood with a hand resting on the axe that he was never without.

“Aye, and my _adar_ (father) has sent ambassadors as well, indeed he rode with a force to Carn Dûm.” Legolas, the fair elf prince, added, a sparkle in his eye. “For that accomplishment alone I would bow before this Queen, for _adar_ is not easily encouraged to bring his elves into battle.”

“She sent rangers to the Shire too, apparently.” Pippin added.

“Did she?” Aragorn emerged from the camp, and all the companions turned to him.

“Do you know her, Strider?” Sam asked, to which Aragorn did not reply.

“I would not have thought that the hobbits would let Rangers inside the borders.” Aragorn turned to Rosie. “Do you know much of the circumstances?” His gaze was sharp, and Rosie thought that it was curiosity that drove his question.

“There was a patrol in the Shire during the winter of 1419 into early spring 1420.” Rosie replied softly, aware of the eyes turned to her.

“For the entire winter?” He asked, surprised.

“Aye, they said that it was better that they not travel during the winter.” Rosie replied, remembering how Gilwyn had told her that the weather would be bad, so they might as well remain for the winter if the hobbits would allow them to.

“And who was on this patrol, do you know?” Aragorn asked, his keen grey eyes locked on her face.

“There were seven people, four of them were women, three from the south, six were warriors, the seventh was a young ranger, a healer.” Rosie replied, almost without thinking.

“You never told us that you met the Rangers!” Pippin protested, and Rosie felt a blush rush over her features as she forced a shrug.

“What were their names?” Aragorn asked softly, and Rosie turned to him, softly recounting the names.

“And Gilwyn.” She finished, softly, and she could swear that he had recoiled ever so slightly before emotion was wiped from his face.

“Aragorn?” Legolas had clearly caught the look that had passed over the King’s features.

“Not now, Legolas, I have much to think on.” Aragorn replied. “We will enter the city tomorrow at dawn, I suggest you all take some rest.” He added, and then he disappeared back into the camp. Legolas and Gandalf exchanged a look that Rosie caught while the other companions stared in confusion after the man.

  


**VII.** A Conspiracy Unmasked

_Spring 1422_

  


Rosie was awake before dawn the next morning, and soon after found herself at war with Elanor who was more interested in running about camp than getting ready to meet a Queen. Sam made a valiant attempt, but once Merry and Pippin arrived in the splendor of the armor from Rohan and Gondor, respectively, the battle was lost for good. Rosie focused on straightening her own appearance, and she wondered if Gilwyn would be there, and if she would recognize her, and then Elanor tore into the tent, and Rosie’s inner musings were shattered.

The sun was already high in the sky when Rosie and her companions found themselves finally moving. As part of the King’s personal retinue they were to enter the city last, and it had taken hours for the retinue to continue ahead into the city. The hours of anxious waiting fell away as Rosie passed the gates, and entered the great city. People lined the path of their procession, mainly women and children, they stood beside the street, in doorways, and hung out of windows, all watching the king’s procession. Gilwyn and her rangers had spoken true, Rosie noted as she saw the array of people. There were more skin tones and hairstyles than she had ever seen before, and yet all of the people were united in their solemnity. Their eyes were haunted, and their frames thin as they stood in their silent vigil. At her side Sam took Rosie’s hand, while she held her daughter more tightly. This was not the reaction that she had expected, nor from the faces on her other companions was it the reaction that they had anticipated.

Their procession continued up the lined street to a great white stone hall at the highest point of the city. It was several stories high, and in the open square there were even more people. Some of them Rosie recognized as belonging to the King’s retinue, but most of them were strangers to her. To one side there were several delegations who stepped forward. Dwarves from various realms in heavy bejeweled robes and golden armor, Fair elves from Mirkwood and two twin elves from Rivendell, and men who said that they were from Dale, Esgaroth, and other various northern kingdoms. Finally a man, a prince, he called himself, stepped forward, announcing that he represented the Easterlings and the Southrons, and begging that the King see fit to grant them pardon for they too had fought in the North with the Dúnedain, men, dwarves, and elves. Aragorn replied that they would speak later, but that he had come to Arnor to ensure that there was peace in all corners of his realm.

Then the crowd hushed, and the great doors to the hall opened. There were at least two patrols of rangers who exited, men and women who appeared to hail from many different home lands, and then a tall woman with dark hair exited.

“Queen Elín!” Someone in the crowd shouted, and then the cheers were deafening. The Queen, Estelraen, raised her hand, greeting her people who hailed her with the affectionate sobriquet ‘Elín’, as she stepped forward. As she drew closer Rosie saw that Elín appeared very young. Of course Gilwyn had mentioned that she had only ruled for a few years, and that it was her mother’s death that precipitated her reign.

“King Aragorn Elessar, I welcome you to the North. In your absence I was appointed to this position. I have kept your kingdom, and ruled in your stead. I now return the Scepter of Annúminas to its rightful keeper, with the hope that I have not disappointed you, My Lord.” She then bowed in a deep curtsy, proffering to him a golden scepter. As one the people gathered also bowed, following their queen’s gesture. Aragorn did not wait for all of the people to bow before he raised her, one hand wrapping tenderly around her wrist, while he used the other to lift her chin.

“I have no doubt of your capabilities, Elín.” He replied in a voice that also carried, and then softly he added; “I have always, and will always trust you _nín iell_ (my daughter).” The Queen smiled gently, and then from behind her another figure stepped forward. Gilwyn. Rosie’s heart beat at a furious pace in her chest as Aragorn’s gaze fell on her, and as she came to a halt beside the Queen, Rosie realized that Gilwyn was no mere Ranger; she was a princess.

  


**VIII.** Inside Information

_Spring 1422_

  


Soon after Aragorn’s daughters were revealed to the Company and all the other dignitaries present, Rosie found herself swept with Aragorn’s closest friends and honored dignitaries into the Great Hall. As she went she stared at Gilwyn who walked by her father’s side, every bit the princess that she was born to be. Her hair rippled in a magnificent cascade to the small of her back, intricate braids woven into it with green beads that Sam whispered must be green elf stones, _beryls_. She was clad in a gown of spring green that managed to bring out the blue in her gaze, and when she smiled she was absolutely radiant. The Queen stood a little taller than her younger sister, with midnight dark hair and stern features softened into a smile that made her look even younger. She carried herself like Aragorn and Gilwyn, as royalty, and Rosie thought that the intricate silver circlet on her brow was entirely unnecessary. She wore a gown of lavender and silver, that accentuated her grey eyes, and while she was also beautiful, it was Gilwyn who truly captured Rosie’s attention. When they were all in private Rosie met Gilwyn’s gaze, and quickly turned away, feeling embarrassed about being caught staring so openly.

The meeting that followed helped to untangle the details. Aragorn had wed Ivonwyn in secret, and few outside of the Dúnedain knew of Elín and Gilwyn’s existence. Ivonwyn wanted her children to be raised amongst their people, not sheltered in Imladris. When Aragorn travelled away from the North, Ivonwyn would take up his mantle, guiding the Dúnedain when they needed someone to look up to. As the Dark Lord’s power grew, Aragorn returned home less frequently, afraid that attention would turn to the North if he remained there for too long. While he journeyed south, Ivonwyn and the Dúnedain faced increased attacks, and finally she ordered that they retreat together as a front to Fronost. They were attacked there, and forced to retreat to Annúminas, and it was during that retreat the Ivonwyn was killed. Never one to order her Rangers out to fight while she fled, she led the attack that diverted the enemy long enough for most of those who could not fight to escape to Annúminas. After that, Estelraen, affectionately called Elín, assumed power, using her grief to drive her. She had chosen to accept the Easterlings when their prince was brought before her, and she had created alliances with dwarves and elves and other humans in the North. In the aftermath of her father’s victory in the south she had called upon those allies, convincing them to march on Carn Dûm itself to rid the North one and for all of orcs, goblins, and other foul creatures. Elín had led from the front while Gilwyn remained behind to guide their people in her sister’s absence, and in case Elín had not returned. That was the real reason, Rosie realized that she had remained in the Shire for the winter, and returned in the spring. She had needed space from her sister, to come to terms with the very real possibility of loosing her so soon after loosing their mother. Her duty had driven her back to Annúminas, and had kept her there.

When the retreated to their lodgings that evening Rosie wondered what might have happened if things had been different; if Gilwyn had not left. She liked to think they would have been, but the reality was that no daughter of Kings could ever love a simple hobbit lass.

  


**IX**. Homeward Bound

_Summer 1422_

The fist few days at Annúminas were filled with tours of the city and its workings, but as the first week came to a close Rosie found her interest in the city waning as the one person that she wanted to hear from the most failed to appear. Early the next week, her dreams were realized when a note reached her from Gilwyn, inviting her to work in the Houses of Healing as long as she remained in the North. Rosie left Elanor in Sam’s capable hands, and for the rest of the summer spent all of her time at Annúminas basking in Gilwyn’s company. If anyone wondered at their closeness, or the numerous exchanged glances, then they said nothing to Rosie. She worked in the Houses of Healing, witnessing first hand the grievous injuries that men, women, and children alike suffered from, and when she was not there then she was in one of the houses set up for the many orphans. Sometimes she brought Elanor with her, letting her daughter play with the other children, but for most of the time it was just her and Gilwyn, and that was how she preferred it; not that she dared tell anyone.

Rosie did not want the summer to come to an end, and yet time could never be stopped. The days marched inevitably towards fall, and with fall came the plans for their departure. Rosie had made quite a few friends; the Rangers from the patrol that had saved her in the Shire, other healers in the Houses of Healing, patients in those same houses, and the children and their caretakers. Rosie knew that she would miss them, she would miss what she had come to see as normal when it came to Annúminas’s diverse population. But most of all, Rosie would miss Gilwyn’s company. The Princess never held herself as above Rosie, and she remained a patient teacher and a steadfast companion.

On their last night in the city Rosie and Gilwyn stood together on the rooftop garden of the Healing Houses, and in that dark sanctuary Gilwyn knelt, and kissed Rosie. It was a chaste kiss, but Rosie would never forget the soft brush of lips.

 

Rosie, Sam, Elanor, Frodo, Merry, and Pippin were back in the Shire by the beginning of October. Frodo left not long after, and it was only Sam, Rosie, and their growing family, for Rosie was once again expecting, who inhabited Bag End.

 

Several years later when Rosie was making a customary visit the Ranger outpost on the edge of the Shire she learned that Gilwyn had left the North. She had married Éomer King, and moved with her husband to rule Rohan. Since their farewell in Annúminas, Rosie had not seen Gilwyn. They had exchanged a few letters at first, but as time went on Rosie moved on in her life with Sam, accepting that she had a family to care for, as her time to reminisce about Gilwyn dwindled. So when she heard of Gilwyn’s marriage, and later about the birth of her children then she was happy for her friend. And what Rosie never knew was that when Rangers travelled to Rohan they always brought the Queen news of the golden-haired hobbit and her family.

  


  


 

 


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